I Didn't Mean to Kill You
by DolphinsAreJustGaySharkss
Summary: She's hopelessly stupid. She's hilarious. And she's got an abusive father. Brittana friendship/romance. Rated T for character death, abuse, and swearing.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: In this story, Brittany and Artie were never together, and Brittany doesn't have a sister. Oh yeah, and I don't own Glee.

…

Brittany tapped her Hello Kitty pen on her desk as she stared at her homework.

Not that she was actually going to do it, of course.

The assignment happened to be an English paper. The rest of Brittany's class had to do a per-something essay, but Brittany had no idea what that was, so after a few minutes her exasperated teacher decided to give her a first grade assignment and told her to write about her family instead.

Her family. What would she be able to write about them (if she was going to do the assignment)?

Her mother. She was an alcoholic, currently in rehab. But she was still Brittany's mother, and she loved her.

Her father, on the other hand, was usually sober. But he had an awful temper, which was even worse when he was drunk, and Brittany hated being in the same room as him. Their relationship was even worse not that her mother was gone. Right now Brittany's door was locked in case he had a mood swing and got violent.

Just then, Brittany was woken from her thoughts (and sleep. She was beginning to doze off) by a loud crash that sounded like a beer bottle being thrown against a wall.

She heard her father's footsteps coming towards the door. She jumped up and looked for somewhere to hide, as her dad was very strong and could probably knock down a door.

"Brittany! Unlock the door right now, or I swear I will knock it down!"

Brittany silently opened her window, which didn't have a screen, and went onto the roof. She had seen it done in Calvin and Hobbes.

She tucked her knees up to her chest and started to cry.

…

Santana was lying on her bed, bored. She took her phone out of her pocked and started to text Brittany.

To: Brittany

**Hey Brit u want to come to my place?**

A few seconds later she had a reply.

From: Brittany

**Sere**

Santana smiled. Her best friend _still_ could not find the u key.

Pretty soon, Santana got another text.

From: Brittany

**And can yoe bring a lader when yoe pick me op**


	2. Chapter 2

Santana tapped her foot against the concrete as she stood in Brittany's backyard. She stared at her best friend, who had somehow managed to get stuck on the roof. Brittany's eyes darted all over the place, refusing to make contact with Santana. It was Santana who broke the silence.

"Brittany, what are you doing on the roof? How did you even get up there?"

"Because I'm a ninja…" Brittany mumbled.

"_Brittany._" Santana said firmly.

"So, did you bring the ladder?" Brittany asked casually, trying to change the subject.

"Yes- but that's not the point. Tell me why you're sitting on your roof at 8:00 at night," Santana wouldn't leave the subject alone.

Brittany wouldn't answer. After a few minutes of an unofficial staring contest, Santana gave up and went to get the ladder. The two friends didn't speak to each other through the whole car ride to Santana's house.

Once at Santana's house, they lay on her bed. Brittany looked deep in thought, which was rare for the ditzy blonde cheerleader.

"Would my sweet lady kisses make you feel better?" Santana offered. She knew her friend never said no to those.

Brittany shook her head. "Actually, I think I want to talk." Santana's jaw dropped. She wondered if her friend had been abducted by aliens and replaced by this creature who liked to talk about her feelings rather than have sex.

"Well, my mom's in rehab," Brittany began. Santana nodded.

"So I'm kind of stuck with just my dad. He kind of… gets a little mad sometimes…"

Santana knew where this was going. "Oh no Brit, he doesn't… hit you, does he?"

Brittany didn't answer for a few seconds. Then she nodded slowly.

"Is that why you were on the roof? To escape from him?" Santana felt bad for assuming her best friend had just been… being Brittany.

"Uhhh… yes, but as I said before, it was also to demonstratate my awesome ninja skills. Brittany laughed nervously.

The only thing Santana could manage to say was, "It's demonstrate."

The two cheerios stared at their laps for a while. Then Santana remembered how to talk and asked how long this had been going on.

"Oh, about two weeks," Brittany said, but quickly added, "But, you know, only when he gets mad."

Santana looked her in the eyes and said, "It. Is. Still. Not. Okay."

"Just don't tell anyone, or else he will get mad, and…" Santana shuddered as Brittany said it. Who knows how far Mr. Pierce would go if anyone knew?

The girls sat in silence for a few minutes longer before Brittany turned to her friend. "You know, I think I just might take up your offer… your sweet lady kisses would be nice right now."

"Sure." And with that, the two friends with benefits went into their usual routine of neck kisses, as if nothing had happened.

…

Please read and review!


	3. Chapter 3

The following Monday at school looked just like any day in the life of one Santana Lopez. Classes, lunch, being a bitch to everyone, Mr. Shue telling the club to find a song that express their feelings and all that crap. She knew that soon Brittany would say something strange, and then she would go to cheerios practice and hold about 500 pounds of cheerleaders on her shoulders.

But it wasn't the same. Every time she glanced at Brittany, every time her friend said something, and every time people responded to the random things she said, Santana was reminded of the conversation they had on Saturday. She wanted to scream at her peers for thinking that Brittany was just a stupid blonde cheerio, nothing more.

But she knew Brittany wouldn't want that.

So she refrained from sending any caring glances towards her friend, or telling anyone what Brittany was going through.

She felt ignorant, knowing all this stuff about Brittany's life but doing nothing, pretending nothing was even happening. Santana knew she should eventually tell someone.

But not today.

All this thinking took a lot of time, and when Santana woke from her drifting thoughts, she saw everyone in the glee club staring at her. She figured Mr. Shue had asked her a question or something.

"Oh, right, what was that?" she asked.

"Mr. Shue didn't ask you a question, we were all staring at you because you didn't make any snarky comments to Rachel when she started being obnoxious," Artie responded. Rachel and Finn glared at him.

"Oh yeah- uhh, you're a dwarf, Rachel." It came out half-heartedly.

Then someone went up to the front of the room to sing because they couldn't find the right words to say to one of the glee clubbers. Or something like that, Santana wasn't really paying attention.

At the end of glee club, Santana was supposed to be heading to cheerios practice, but as she headed out the door she turned towards the guidance counselor office. She didn't know what she would say there. _"Hi Miss Pillsbury, Brittany's being physically abused by her father. Bye."_

Santana knew that she wouldn't really care if it were any of the other glee clubbers who were being abused. Hell, she wouldn't care if it were anyone else in this entire school. If it had been Rachel who had confided something like that in her, she would have literally laughed in her face. Cruel, but true.

But she still walked towards Mrs. Pillsbury-Howell's office. Santana stood there like a rock before finally opening the door.

Sure enough, there the guidance counselor was, squirting a big glop of hand sanitizer into her hands. "Oh, Santana, what is it? You never come see me."

"Yeah, well… it's not exactly about me…" Santana began.


	4. Chapter 4

Santana and Emma sat in silence in the guidance counselor office. Emma was trying to start a conversation.

"So… what did you come to talk about?" Emma asked.

_Oh yeah. Real subtle, Ms. Pillsbury. _Santana bit back her sharp retort.

"Ok, we can't just sit here in silence the whole day," Emma said, somewhat exasperated.

"Why not?" Santana asked coldly.

"Because I know you have some sort of problem. Or else, why would you be here in the first place?"

"Oh, you think _I_ have _problems_ now? Maybe I just wanted to ask for some hand sanitizer," Santana muttered sarcastically. "You know, on second thought, I actually don't need to be here. This is a mistake." And with that, the cheerio got up and left.

As she walked down the hall, Santana thought to herself, _Go ahead and run. You're just a pathetic little girl who is too scared to let anyone help. Even when that means you're friend's life is possibly in danger. _

_

* * *

_

It was during cheerios practice when Santana came up with an idea to help a certain blonde cheeleader. She still felt bad about not telling an adult, but she thought that maybe this plan would make up for that. _Yeah, right_.

After practice, Santana ran up to Brittany to tell her.

"Run away with me," Santana said. "Well, not like, you know, elope or anything, but you know, just get out of your house. Actually, it's perfectly fine if you want to elope, if you want to." _Shut up, brain! _Santana thought.

Brittany just looked at her like she was crazy.

"What I mean is, you need to get away from your dad, so tomorrow, we'll ditch school and collect your stuff while you're dad's at work. Then we'll just-," Santana paused. "I don't know what we'll do. But you _need_ to get away from your dad, because what he is doing to you _is_ _not okay._"

Brittany thought for a second. "Can we bring my cat?" she finally asked.

"Yes. We can bring your cat," Santana was relieved that Brittany wasn't putting up a fight. "Ok. So that's that. You pack your stuff once your dad leaves, then I'll come over and pick you up."

* * *

As Santana drove home from school, she thought to herself, _There. I did it. Without getting adults involved._ But there was still a nagging voice in the back of her head, telling her that it wasn't enough.

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**Wow. I used a lot of commas.  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry I've been taking a little while to update! I could make up some excuse that I was on a vacation or something like that, but actually I just got the complete series of Gilmore Girls and that's been keeping me busy. Nothing particularly important happens in this chapter, which is, by the way, the longest chapter yet, but I felt the need to throw a hint of fluff into the mix, because trust me, the happiness level in this story only goes downhill from here.**

* * *

Santana and Brittany slowly walked across the field toward Santana's car. Once they were there, Santana swung open the door, making a dent in the car next to hers. It didn't matter. The car belonged to Janice Breyley, who was at the bottom of the pyramid next to Santana and could never seem to shut up.

Once they were both in the car, Santana turned to Brittany. "So… where am I supposed to bring you?"

"To my house, I guess," Brittany replied.

"But what about the whole thing with your dad?" Santana asked. "I'm sorry, I'm just not very good with trying to help people. Usually I just try to ruin everybody's lives."

"You're doing fine. I guess. I don't know. Nobody's really tried to help me before, and I've never actually helped anyone, so I'm not sure how exactly you're supposed to do it," Brittany shrugged.

"But I don't want anything… bad… to happen… to you…?" It came out as a question, as Santana had never anything like this in her entire life.

"He only hits me when he's mad, and last time there was some football game and his favorite team lost, I guess," Brittany shook her head. "I don't exactly know, because I've never watched a football game in my life. Not even our school's football team. Seriously, I don't even know the _name_ of our football team." Santana couldn't help but smile at that. "So, where are you going?" The blonde cheerleader continued.

_Straight to hell_, Santana thought. "To my house. Or yours, whichever one you want," was what the Latino actually said.

Brittany didn't answer. She just stared straight ahead.

"Um, okay, you're not going to answer me. I'm fine with that," Santana sighed and returned her gaze to the road.

After a minute, Santana wondered why they weren't at Brittany's house yet. There wasn't any traffic, and they should have been there by now. Then she realized something.

"Oh wait! We haven't started driving yet," Santana laughed nervously. She turned to Brittany and waited for her to finally respond. She sighed and clapped her hands in front of her friend's face.

Brittany practically jumped out her seat. "What did you do that for? I was thinking of what kind of lock I should get for my diary so my cat can't read it anymore!" Brittany wasn't joking about this. She practically had steam coming out of her ears.

"Sorry! But it's just so fun to scare you!" Santana laughed.

"I hate you!" Brittany yelled.

"Right back at you!" Santana shouted back, trying to get a handle on her laughter.

Exactly fourteen seconds later, Santana was finished with her laughing fit and turned to her friend. "I love you Brit!"

"Aww, I love you too!" Brittany gave her friend (with benefits) a peck on the cheek.

Santana smiled at Brittany. "Ok, I think we've been in this car for about 5,000 years."

Brittany nodded. "Yes, I think we've set the world record. Do you think we'll get our names in one of those Guinness books?"

"Of course. And if they think we're not good enough to be in their book, I'll give them a piece of my mind. And by that, I mean my fist," Santana said, finally starting the car.

As the two girls drove out of the school's parking lot, Santana decided to go back to the dreaded topic of Brittany's father. "Are you sure you'll be okay alone with your dad? I can bring you to my house, or I can stay over at your house."

"If he seems even remotely angry, I'll let you drag me out of that house. I promise," Brittany replied.

"But why do you _want_ to go to your house? Why do you want to be near your dad?" Santana had to ask this. It had been bugging her since Brittany told her to bring her to her house.

"Because- I want my stuffed animals. I want my Barbie dolls. I want my cat. What if my dad got mad and hit my cat? He's so helpless, even though he has razor sharp claws and is also a vampire," Brittany said solemnly.

"Wait, you think-," Santana just shook her head. There was no use questioning Brittany.

"Maybe he's changed," Brittany continued.

"Your cat? What?" Santana was confused.

"My dad," Brittany answered. "Maybe he became nicer. Maybe hitting was only a-," she stopped, counting how many times her dad had hit her.

"No, it isn't. He hasn't changed in the last two days. I know it. When you texted me a few days ago, you seemed so scared. You said he threatened to knock down your door. What if he did? What would he do then?"

Brittany didn't have an answer to that.

"Brittany, please, please, please, please, _please_ come to my house. I'll pay you. Seriously! And I'll give you some sweet lady kisses! Just please, don't go to your house," Santana never said please, so this was obviously an urgent situation.

"Fine."

Santana was surprised, seeing as how her friend had been so set on staying at her house for the night.

"But my cat is outside, so can we drop by my house to find him?"

Santana nodded. "We can go get your cat."


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you for all the reviews, favorites, and story alerts! I might be able to fit in one more chapter after this one this week, but after that you'll have to wait another week before I update. Also, please vote on my profile for which one-shot you'd rather have me make first once I'm done with this fic!**

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Santana pushed open the door to the Starbucks. It was pouring outside, her hair was sopping wet, and she had bite marks all over her hands from Brittany's cat. Santana wondered if her ditzy friend was right about that thing being a vampire.

Santana took an elastic hair band and tied her hair up with it. She took off her trench coat, instantly going from an average dripping-wet teenager to a cheerio, the HBIC of the Starbucks.

She pushed past a middle-aged man to the front of the line.

"Excuse me, I'd like a decaf," Santana said rudely to the woman at the register.

"Sure…" the woman said. She looked somewhat uncertain.

"What?" Santana asked impatiently.

"It's just that… shouldn't you be at school right now?"

"You're like, 30, and you work at a Starbucks. I wouldn't be talking," Santana retorted sharply.

The woman was visibly offended. "I'll get your coffee," she muttered under her breath.

Once she had her frappucino, Santana sat down at one of the tables near a window. She looked out at the pouring rain and thought about what events led up to this, and what she would be doing a few minutes.

The night before, Brittany and Santana had gotten mani-pedis, watched movies, gossiped, and scissored, you wouldn't be able to tell that one of them would escaping from their abusive father with the help of the other the next day.

This morning, Santana had dropped off Brittany at her father's house after he had left for work. They had stayed up until about 4 in the morning, and Santana was currently exhausted, so she had left to get coffee.

Santana was vaguely aware of two 30-something women sitting down at the table next to her. But when she heard the words "Brooks and Danstern" (the name of Brittany's dad's company) she couldn't help but eavesdrop on the two ladies.

"My sister works there," one of the women was explaining. "She said that one of her coworkers just stormed in angrily and, like, _attacked_ one of the other employees."

"Oh my _god_! Was he fired?" the other one asked.

"Of course, her boss immediately sent him home," the woman telling the story replied. "My sister said that if I ever meet a guy named Jonathon Pierce, I should really stay away from him."

Santana quickly stood up from the table. The two women turned their heads towards her as she ran out the door to her car.

_Shit._

_

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_**Sorry for the short chapter! I think I'll make 2 more chapters and an epilogue. Please read and review! :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**I've decided that I should make another chapter today instead of tomorrow, seeing as this story has gotten 0 hits today and only 20 yesterday. Or there's something wrong with my computer, which wouldn't surprise me seeing as it's a piece of crap. Also, I have nothing else to do. I'm thinking I'll have one or two more chapters than I said last time.**

* * *

Santana was driving at only about 30 miles per hour. It was raining even harder now, her windshield wipers furiously wiping at the rain beating against the windshield. Beating. Santana didn't want to think about that word right now. She stepped on the gas until she was driving at the speed of 70 miles per hour. She knew that this was dangerous, but she had to help her best friend. She didn't know exactly how, but she knew she had to.

Santana found it strange that there weren't any police cars coming after her. _Puckermann's probably stolen another ATM_, she thought to herself. She silently thanked Puck and his criminal record.

Santana looked up and saw a sign reading "Maple Road". _This is it_, she thought. She just had to turn and drive a little ways down, and then she would be at Brittany's house.

She jumped when she heard police sirens behind her. She swerved sharply at the corner, almost missing Maple Road. She picked up more speed, until she was almost sure she would crash her car. Adrenaline pumped through her body. Santana felt like she was in one of those car chase scenes in a cheesy action movie. As she grew closer to Brittany's house, she felt triumphant, as if she had beaten all of them: the police, Brittany's dad, anyone who would ever lay a finger on Brittany.

Until she saw it.

There, in Brittany's driveway, was her father's car.

Santana knew that that her best friend was in danger, and that she had failed her by not getting there in time. Why did she need to get coffee? Couldn't she have waited until later?

And Santana soon realized, as her car spun out of control, she was in danger too.

* * *

**And I'm going to leave it just like that! Bwahaha, I'm evil! :P I might update later tonight or tomorrow morning… or next week. Sorry for the very short chapter, hopefully the next one will be longer. And not much dialogue… but there was nobody for Santana to talk to so…**

**And you might be wondering why Santana didn't just call Brittany, because that would have been a hell of a lot quicker, but let's just say it's because she didn't have her phone with her.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Just so you know, I didn't have any fun writing this chapter. I don't like seeing my two favorite cheerios in pain. (Sorry, Quinn.) Also, I don't take week long breaks from updating because I'm evil, but every other week I go to a place I like to call my dad's house and there isn't a computer there. Anyways, longer chapter! Yay!**

Disclaimer: I've tried negotiating with the writers, but sadly I still don't own Glee.

* * *

_Get up._

Santana swung open her door, rubbing her head. Her car had swerved into a mailbox, so while there was a huge dent in the side of her car, she had escaped this incident relatively unharmed.

Unfortunately, the police had caught up to her. Two officers steeped out of the police car.

So, to escape getting a ticket, or whatever the police would do to her, she came up with an excuse. The real reason that she had driven so fast to get here would have probably been an acceptable excuse, but that would have taken too long.

But as it turned out, it didn't even matter.

"There's a drug deal going on in that house!" Santana pointed at Brittany's house.

A police officer asked, "And how exactly do you know that?"

Damn it. She knew she could get in a pointless argument explaining that she wasn't a drug dealer, but instead she just fixed the two police officers with a glare that said, _If you don't break into that house right now, I just might kill you._

They got the message.

"Stay put," the other officer told her.

Santana decided that later, when the police found out she was lying, she would say that she was a compulsive liar. Which would be a lie, how ironic.

As the police officers walked up to the door, Santana sneaked around the back of Brittany's house.

It was then that it hit her that Brittany could be not just hurt, but dead. She thought back to what had happened only a few days before. Brittany had escaped onto the roof that night, and Santana had a feeling that she had done the same thing this time, too.

Only today… it was raining. And raining made things slippery. And she knew that the word _slip_ was in slippery.

You know what I'm talking about.

Santana wished more than anything that she were wrong.

But of course, she wasn't.

And as she stared at the blonde-haired, lifeless body on the ground, Santana knew she had failed her friend. She thought back to the promise she had made Brittany years ago.

"Santana, I don't want to die," Brittany told her friend. "Ever. Death is so scary." The girls were only eight, but of course they both knew that they would die someday.

"_I'll tell you what," Santana said. "We can die when we're both really old. And we'll die together. We'll even hold pinkies while we die, and then we're going to go to heaven together and be best friends forever."_

"_You promise?" Brittany asked. _

"_I promise. I'll protect you and I'll never let you die until we're old."_

"_Pinky promise?"_

"_Pinky promise." And with that, the two young girls linked pinkies._

Santana was shaken back into the present when the police arrived at the back of the house. One of the police officers was dragging a handcuffed Mr. Pierce along. She heard him arguing with the officer that he wasn't a drug dealer.

"She's dead," Santana said hollowly.

"Are you sure? Did you check her pulse?" Santana shook her head.

"No. But I know she's dead."

"She's lying, I tell you. I'm telling you, I'm not trying to smuggle drugs across the border of Mexico! Besides, we're not even anywhere near Mexico!" Brittany's father was explaining.

"Will you please _shut up _about yourself for once? Your daughter is lying _dead_ on the ground with her skull cracked open and you're just…" Santana was losing her temper with this man. "How about you crawl into a little hole in the ground and die, because nobody fucking cares about you!"

"Wait… is he a drug dealer or not?" one of the police officers asked.

"No… well, I don't think he is, at least… but that's beside the point."

"Miss, would you please explain what is going on here?"

"Like… child abuse or something… I don't know what to call it, okay? Brittany didn't tell me much," Santana snapped.

"Mr. Pierce, would you like to tell us what's been going on between you and your daughter?" the cop continued.

"He's just going to lie," Santana interrupted. The police officer shot her a look not to interrupt.

"A couple of times… I might have disciplined her. She was being a brat, and I needed to smack some sense into her," Mr. Pierce shrugged.

Santana laughed. "Oh yes, she's such a bad kid, sitting in her room minding her own business! I mean, what kind of awful person does that?"

"I was drunk! The I couldn't help it!" Mr. Pierce shouted. Santana flinched at this.

"And how many times has that happened?" one of the cops asked.

Jonathan Pierce didn't answer that.

The two cops nodded at each other. "I think we've heard enough," one said, grabbing Mr. Pierce by his arm and walking towards the police car.

Santana heard Mr. Pierce say a few words that made her blood go cold. Not literally, but still.

"I didn't mean to kill you," Mr. Pierce mumbled to the body of his daughter.

She really wanted to kill that man. And she _would_ mean it.

One of the police officers turned towards Santana. "We would give you a ticket, but seeing as how-," the officer looked sympathetically at Brittany lying limply on the ground. "Well, I think you've paid well over the price."

Santana thought it was funny how nobody had mentioned that her car was wrecked. Though frankly, she didn't give a shit about that.

And then she was left alone with Brittany. Santana couldn't bring herself to look at her best friend, or rather her _only_ real friend's body.

She knew that she would _never_ be able find someone like Brittany. Someone who could look past her cold, unfriendly exterior and make her smile, laugh, actually _feel_ things. Would they have ever become more than friends if Brittany was still alive? Maybe. Maybe not. I didn't matter which one, because more important than sweet lady kisses was having someone who would always have your back, who would always make you feel better, and would never leave you if they had the choice.

But you don't get a choice on when you die.

Santana heard a car door slam shut, and the sound of someone running towards her. She thought it was just her mom, but instead she turned around and saw Mr. Schuester and a few of the glee kids walking towards her.

"Hey, did you guys ditch school too?" she asked, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

"We heard about it," Mr. Schue said. He didn't have to explain. Santana knew exactly what he was talking about. "I'm just so, so sorry."

And that was when Santana finally broke down and cried.

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**Once again, lots of commas and italics! And I know there wasn't some big huge death scene, but the thing is that sometimes people just die, and you never get to say goodbye. Now I'm sad. I think I'm going to write some Brittana fluff after this.**

Up next: Kind of a flashback to what happened what happened that led to Brittany falling off her roof, from Brittany's POV.


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